


Baptize Me In A River Of Fire

by sonicsora



Series: A Pathway for you and I [3]
Category: Brütal Legend, Psychonauts (Video Games)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Apocalypse, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Character Death, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Cults, Demonic Possession, Demons, Destruction, Developing Relationship, Disembowelment, Drowning Doom - Freeform, End of the World, Explicit Gore, F/M, Graphic Description of Corpses, Graphic descriptions of gore, Hanging, Kidnapping, M/M, Multi, Old Gods, Rescue Missions, Seattle, Sharing a Body
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2019-11-17 17:04:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18102743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonicsora/pseuds/sonicsora
Summary: With the return of the Emperor, The Tainted Coil try to take over the world. Little do they know, they've unleashed the sea upon modern-day Seattle and enraged the Psychonauts.Caught in the middle of the chaos is Sasha Nein, Milla Vodello, Crowley, and Ophelia.The real question is, who will live and who will die as the metal gods twist the landscape to The Emperor's liking?





	1. I've got nothing to lose, but everything to win

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MatchstickDhole](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MatchstickDhole/gifts), [Amazinglybad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amazinglybad/gifts), [callmedok](https://archiveofourown.org/users/callmedok/gifts).



> welp here is the start of Pathways book 2. Pray 4 me.
> 
> I also brought the cast count down (not by murder for once!!) so things will be less spread out in a lot of ways. _You're welcome_.

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I͇͍̦̫̣̟̱̱͐̏̓̇̊̃̚͢͢͞n̶̗͎̹̱͇̞̯͉̺̄̏̇̎͆̆́͡ ţ̶̙͖͎̜̱̖̫́̒͆̿̒̕ḣ̶̡̝̞̳͕͈͖̹͊̂̋̎̍̕̚ę̛̙̬̫̮̖͓͙̐̂͊͆̚͜͡ b̷̥̻͖̦̞͉̱̭͚͌̇̆͊͂̃ȩ̵̢̡̮̦̱̟͖͈̽̎͋̂̽͒̚͜g̰̭̲̗̼̙͂̀͒̎̎̚͜i̸̡̛̭̜̻͙̺͇͈̒̌̄̎̄͘͟ň̢̝̤̲̬̣̰̱̍̏̂̈̐̕͘̚n̵̼̜̘̥̥̈́̍͒͛̒͘͢͠i̸͍͎̺̬͔̫̯̗̺͆̇̈́̆̒̈̾̒͞͡ͅn̨͙̜͍͚̥̹̐̊̒́̏̋͟͠͠g̥̬͉̱̼͌̍͊͗̈̃̽͟͠.̡̭̘̃͗͗͐͊͗͜͜  
̛̻̮͍̙͙͉͈̬͆̽́͗̈́̚̚̚ͅ  
̷̰̯̱̥͉͕̬͙̓̾̎̆͆̾͡͡T̴̖̥̠̣̅̍͊̽̈̃ͅh̦̪̥̘̩̳̯̓̎̊͗͐͋͢ͅĕ̢̘̲̟̟̐͛̓̂̄̚͢͢ŗ̤̮͓̰̯̻̻̊͋͆͌͐̋͢͞ȩ̼̺̦͓͌͐͌̿̄̌͆̕͞ w̶̟͎̞̻̬͚̽̈́̎͐̕̕͡͞á̸̝̲̥̣̮́̾̎ͅs̛̛̖̖̼̮̄̆̆̓̃̕ͅ ḑ̶͈͎̥̎͋̉͆̕̚ͅa̴̖̹̖͎̪̲̼̓̋͆̊́̋͢r̶̰̰̗̣͉̝̒͊̏̀̓̋̉́̚͟͟͠ͅk̢̩̯͚͈̼̳̿̊̽̉n̶̼͔̳̼̲͔͐͐̌͘͟͞ę̴̛̳̘͙̹̹͌͗͒̂̐̀́͂͠ș̡̧̛͕̳̹̭̠̠̯̔͆̊̂̃̄̕̕ş̲͖̫̳̜͎͎̀͛͊̽̕.̷̡̖̱̞̬̍͊͌̋̄͞  
̦͚͙̺́̓̾̅͜͢  
̮͓̣͚̙̮̣̑̑̃̽̈͢I̡̲̳͍͖͚̘͗̇̐͌͊͐͒̿͜͟͞͠n̻̭͚̖̠̙̹̭̟͛̇̓͌́͑̄͂͝͞ t̷̟͙̯̣̤̝̥̞̙̆͌̇̅͛̌̿̑͜h̴̡̧̗̻͙̼̥̫̭̏̃̏̀͌ê̸̠͈̤̳͍̗͈̌̐́̓͗ ḇ̛͎̪̩͇̺̄̇͗̅̍̄͘͝e̸̡̝̯̳̮̼̖̰̊͐͗͗͌̌g̷̛̤̭̱̠̪͍̑̎̔̋̉́͘ï̧̲͚̖̟̎̓̓̓̐͑n͉̟̯̮̊͐̽̾̿̓͟ͅň̶̡̘͓̝̹̽͌̇̂̔͞i̧̩̻̘̰͑̓͂̉͡ͅṋ̷̨̨̛̰̱̩̞͉̪͉͒̆́̎̄͋g̶̡̣̳̥̤̈̓͐̾̍͋̚̕ t̷͚͕͕̝͕̲̯͗͑̍̒̚h̸̫̝͎̺̞̐͊̂̌̈̕͘͢e̠̫̘͓̳͔͂̒̂͑̇̒̐̓̓͘͟ͅr̶̛̳̦̲̣͚͚̓̆̐̑̓̿͠ͅę̬̝͓̯̊͛́͆͐̌ w̘̩̜͎̘̍͂̑̽̐͟͡a̸̛̦̟̦̤̬͉̒̊̉͌̓̚̕s͓̳̼̳̣̽̿̇̾̉̀ m̴͖̟̮̙̩̝̩̍́̑̌̓̕͞ĕ̼͔̰͚͔͉̖̏̿̓̏̈͗̔̕͟͠ͅ.̵̖̘͈̦̮̦̐̔̐͆͘͢  
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Ḯ̞͖̫͈͉͉̺̫̦̺̽̌̔͞͞ṉ̮͔̻̟̯͆̌̃̂̕ ẗ̨̛͓̳̗̲̱̭̮́̄̌̑͆͆̓h̸̺̠̹͔͓̠͂̉̊̃͡ẽ̥̥̳̙̬̱͌̎̄͌͊̎̕͡ b̨̡̺̼̮̥͊̍͊͗̎̊͜ê̯̗̳̣̪͎̙̥̍̋̋̈̀̋̚͘͢͠ͅģ̧͙̳̳̮̝͈̿̌̓̒̑ņ͇̦͚̍̎́͒̈̀̏͜į̨̬͕̬̘͕̻̑͒̅̇̿͛̌̒͡ͅn̨̻̙͍͒̓́̄͗̀͢n̶̡̧̛̠͙͚͍̗̜͖͒̇̓̆͐̾͋̚͝ͅi̸̡̼͇̱̜̙̒̄̄͊̚̕͠n̫̣̮̭̳͕͙̠̺͛̿̈͆̋͌̊͟g͕̗̯͔͖̟͇̣͉̋͊̽͌̓̋̔̍̑ ṱ̸̝̤͚̘̈́̋̎͆̒͒̍͝͝h̭̲̯͖̫̜̙͇͖͐̆̈̔̉͒̎̀̊e̶̝͓̬͓͎̋̒͌̏̆̈́̐ŗ̶̡͕̱̪͉̹̂͑̄̿͟͢ẻ̴̪̠͉͖̜̌̇̔̈͋͑̍͢ ẅ̷̡̢̧̙̦̜̭̳̟́̉͛̏͡a̸̡̡͈̰̰̖͉̗̋̑̿͘̚s̨̡̫̱͍̦̤͕̥͗̊͆̅̇͘͜͠͠ u̵̡͚̗̘͉̭̥͇̒̌̄͛͒̒̉̊͢͜͞s̡̧̩̻̯̣̦͉̙̩̾͒̾̓͗.̛͕̝͚̘͔͔̳̔͊̏̚̚͜͢͠ͅ  
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I͔͇͙̙͇̪̯̿̓̈́́̊͘n̷̨͈̪̜̼̹͚̆̅̌̐̍̉̔͊͢ ț̶̢̦̜̼͋̔̋̄͊͋͑͝͠͝ẖ̰͓̳͍̿͑̑͢͠e̴̮̙̝͈͓͂̎̍̎ b̴̖̹͉͖̫̀̍̃̌́̎͜ẹ̷̖͙͙́̋̌͂̈́͒̕ͅg̵̩̠̜̳͍͆̈́̒͆͊̿̏͝ͅi̷̧̡̳͚̗͑̀̉͐̽ń̷͖͙͖̦̖̄̍͛́̄͆̓ǹ̶̛͇̦͕̭̞̪̿̆̌͑͊́͜͡ͅi̙̝͎̳̲̪͉͆́͑̔̈̐̚ń̡̧̨̠̲̙͂̆̂͟g̨͍̪͎̗̲̻͒͆̊̒̅͗͋͜͟͞,̧̮͉͙̹̠͍̍̍̍͂̈́͘ i̸͉̭̟̗̒̽̌͛̅̈́͢͠ͅ c̣̺̲͉͖̜̺͑́̆̉͠͠o̢̨̟͕̮͖͍͕̾͐̓̽̏͒ṷ̢̢̣̬̌̋̈́̿̌͌͢͠͞ḻ̶̨̬̯̪̣͕̣̜̋̏̓͌͆͂̇͌̐͜͞d̢͉͈̗͎͈͌̀̂̅͆̃͘ h̛͔̠͚͕̆̋͑̍̎̕͜͝ė̦̹̻͈̱̘͔̪̌̏̀͋̒̀̀͜͟͞͞ǎ̸͉̹̭̞͔͍̩͉̓̏̃̚͢r̷̝̫̱͙̹͙̝̪̼͋͋́̓͌̉͞ ĥ̡̛̫̱̦̳͍̭̰͙̲̋͐͐̓͡͝e̢̦̥͚̰̪͔͉͔͋̊̽̈͌r̡͚̬̻̺̰̦̭̫͗͋͊̑͞ͅ s̵̡̢̟̲̭̻̹̽̓̔͑̿͌͊̌͜͠ï̺̜̩̉̃͐̎̕͟͟͝͡n̶̰͉̲̻̰̘̍̂̓͋̾̍̓̓̅̕͜͜g̷̛̩̲̩̯̪̮̦̍͊̍̈̎͟͝ï̸͕̠̞̞͕̮̺͔̝̔̓͒̏͑͋̽͘͞ͅn̢̨̗͉̩̭̈́̊̏͌͞ǵ̻͖̞̤̭̊̅̃̀͘.̸̛̭̘͕͓̬̔͐̉̿̀̍͝  
̱̩͈̜̜͖̰̊͗̽̓͆̚͞ͅW̨̛̝͔̣͔͉͎̓͌͛̓͊ḧ̢͇̼̠̰̬̤͍͕́́̆͑͆͢͝͞e͉̰͎̯̤̽͊͛̈́̐͆͐̚͜͡r̸͚͓̤̜̲̣͖͕̈͑̋͆̎̕͟͡͝e̵̡͈̯̖̮̾͌̋̾̐̅͝ ì̶̢̝̗͖̠͗̾͒̀̽͂̍͢s̨̺̤̦̄̽̐͑̓͛̾̈̈́̕͜ s̴̛̠̖̯̯̰͖͕̥͐̎̋̂͒͟h̡̡̢̛̭͚͕̋͌̋̏̚e̵͍̗̲͑̈̉̔͜͡ͅ?̷̘̥̝̺͖́̽̇̉̓͡  
̢̠̘̟̤͓̹̍͆̌͟͞͝W̙̺͓̦̮̙͇̖̓́̈͌͋̐h̜̘̯̫̹͎͇̩̱͌̂̈́̆̚ě̢͙̟͇̞͍̏̔̐͌̓͞͝ṟ̵̨̛͔̣̦̪́͆̉̃̈͠ͅė̺̰̰̺̳̪͆̈̉́̎̎̅ a͖̹͎̍̆̈̌͊͆̚͜͜͝ŗ͙͈̙͓̪͈̎̾̉̃̉̚ȅ̴̪͔̙̦͇̰̪͔̎̋͑͆̏̔̊ w͓̦͇̩̼̣̌̅̽̈́͐̓̀̃͂̚e̸̡̛͇̣̫͖̼̹̝̳͌͌̄͟͞͝͡?̸̢̝̥͕̜̝͗͐̽͗̈͞  
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####

_Sasha's laughter rang through the air as the German man leaned into Eddie. The roadie easily curled his arms around Sasha's thin waist as he danced with the lithe man. They kicked up gravel with their movements uncaring of where it landed._

_Eddie’s car was parked a few feet away as the two men danced in the gravel of the shoulder on the empty road. Music blasted from the hot rod's speakers, a jazzy tune Sasha picked out earlier in the night._

_Eddie leaned in to steal a kiss, laughing amidst it when the German man deepened it. The two swayed haphazardly together, the dance becoming less focused as they kissed._

_“Happy anniversary, Baby.” Eddie laughed lowly back when they broke apart. His expression fond and warm in a way that left Sasha feeling comfortable._

_“You as well libeling.” Sasha breathed out, leaning heavily into Eddie as the dancing slowed to an easy stop._

_“Ready for another year of this?” Eddie joked lowly back, his voice warm and playful._

_“Gladly.” Sasha looked up at Eddie, the warmth settled in his chest turning to a chill as a woman smirked down at him. She loomed over him so easily, her white hair and golden glowing eyes were a shock in the darkness of the night._

_The road was gone, replaced by the rubble of buildings and destroyed highway. Eddie’s car was parked haphazardly on a fallen mailbox._

_“You ready for another year of this?” She flashed her teeth at him, all angled wrong and jagged in places that made Sasha’s stomach twist._

_“Who-“_

_She laughed darkly taking Sasha’s hand to kiss his knuckles. “Y’know just the girl of your dreams.” She arched her brows back at him, her voice melding with Eddie’s in a way that left Sasha feeling sick._

_He wrenched himself out of his grasp._

_“Did you know, this world is mine?” She mused swaying as the radio played heavy metal music behind them. She danced carelessly, confidently, an axe appearing in her hand. She twirled it and pointed it at Sasha._

_“I’m taking what’s mine. Don’t stand in my way.” She turned her back on him, revealing the strange cloak was Eddie’s skin hanging limply tied around her neck. She glanced over her shoulder, smirking and snapped her fingers. The ground started to shake and rumble underfoot. Sasha didn’t have time to levitate before he found himself falling between the cracks of the sidewalk-_

Falling off of the uncomfortable bunk bed he was jammed in and hitting the tiled floor with a loud thunk. He groaned, clutching at his head and openly wincing. 

“Darling-?” Milla’s groggy voice questioned, Sasha can hear her shifting on the lower bunk before he feels her hand against his back. “Are you alright?”

“Not particularly.” He breathed out, slowly sitting up. He winced as Milla flicked the lamp light on. The dorms within the Motherlobe wasn’t particularly nice, but made due given the number of agents in the US now residing there. Sasha squinted out at the drab grey and greens that colored his and Milla’s shared room. 

“Bad dream-?”

Sasha exhaled, “A prophecy. I believe.” Something about it didn’t fit with a simple bad dream. It was rare he had dreams that predicted the future in any meaningful way, but- when he did, he knew he had to get it written down quickly. “Paper, please?” 

After some shuffling Milla handed him a notebook and pen. Sasha nodded his hands before scribbling down what he could retain from his dream.

"Do you think we should tell Truman, darling?"

Sasha paused for a moment, re-reading over his own writing. "Yes, yes I do." He felt confident this was serious.

###

_“We continue to urge residents to calmly and collectively evacuate. We ask all Seattle residents to head to the nearest evacuation vehicles. Do not drink or walk into the black water. I repeat, do not interact with the water-”_

Ophelia gave a dry laugh at that, flicking her radio off. “A little late for that.” She looked to Crowley, the dark-skinned man leaning against the remains of a building. He shrugged playfully back at her, “Dunno, darling, could be good thing to heed.” 

“Oh citizens, don’t drink black water! Or you’ll become a freak like us!” She mused pressing a hand against her cheek in mock melodrama. It had only been two weeks since they had fallen into the black water. The changes hadn’t been immediate when they dragged themselves out of the rush of water lapping at the apartment building. They had been relieved then, relieved to be fine and alive even after that fall. Oblivious to what was happening. 

Ophelia almost wished the changes had been, just to save them the pain of dying and reawakening as very- different yet somehow still the same people. The blue skin had come in slowly, blotting out the original pale color of her skin. Black wet almost inky water had slowly started to form in the shape of clothes on her body. If she wasn’t attached to having pockets, Ophelia would have ditched her actual clothes at this point. Crowley had almost permanent face paint and a cold touch that couldn’t be warmed. 

She swings the portable radio around with its strap idly before looking to Crowley again. “Any news from Lars?” 

“Ole lover boy? He’s with Lita and Rima. Lita gave me more information than anyone else.” He flicks a loose loc out of his face as he continues. “Far as we know, ole Lem is with Oz and his family. Mangus is AWOL, Kage left town at the right and missed all of this.” 

Ophelia hums thoughtfully, “We need to keep an eye out for Mangus, Sasha, Milla…”

“Looks like our list is growing, beloved.” 

“I was hoping it had shrunk honestly.” She rises from the lawn chair they salvaged from the water. “Such is the struggle of a rescue party.” 

“Knowing our luck everybody is outta town.” Crowley stands tall, gladly drifting over to Ophelia to offer her his arm. The woman gladly accepts, looping her arm with his own. “And we’re just searching for Eddie.”

“That would be too simple.” Ophelia huffs fondly, she inclines her head. “Shall we?” 

“We shall.” He agrees brightly. "Let's find us one of those bondage wearing weirdos, they likely know something." 

Ophelia hums lowly in agreement leading Crowley as they begin to walk over the rubble of the neighborhood they stopped in for a break. "Given they aren't running from Seattle like everyone else, there has to be some connection."

###

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Ḿ̵̧̛̫̜̯̠̞͎̺̮̂̌̆̄͒̋̚͜ẏ̛͚̪͙͓̣̫̈̐̂̏̅͢ f͖̭͔̣̖̾̍̍̏̈̓͐̔͘a̸͉͓̥̹̤͍͊̎͆͋̄̕͠͞t̢̰̤̅̑͛͌̚͢͝ͅḩ̛̹͕̝͋͑̎̋͛̄ͅę̴̨̩̲̬͖̅͗̽̀͆͟͝ȑ̡̛̘͖̬͎̦̯̳̦̿̆̑͊ t̡̧̖̫̤̳̼̟͉̒̎́͆͘͝ͅö̧̨̢̜̼̜̟͈̘́̈́͒͗͢͝l͎̟̪͍͍̈́̔͌̓̀̑͢d̶̨͚̞̩̟̯̳͍̤͈̊̋͛̾̌ m̢̟̣̗̙͓̎̈́̈̒̓͟e̴̢̻̯̱͙̝̙̻̿͌͆̆̏̆̚͞ ȧ̷̡̟̳̲͈͓̭͓͈̹͂̀͗̂̋̽͘b̸̫̠̯̙̼̮̊̈̑͐͛̇͆̔͑ṏ̸̼͓̟͇̜̟́̀̓̀͒̾̓͞u̡͕͕͚̝͐̅͆͗̿͆ͅt̴̢̰̤̦̟̥̺̱̒͆͌͠ y̵͉̖͍͇̣̭̳̠̖͊͊̓̂̓̑̊͢͞͡͡o̢̟̖̰̘̱͇̓̈͗͂͑͝u͍̜͖͖͈͍͉̙͂̏͂̈̏͗͞.̶̺̝̖͔̖̑͆̉̓̑̎̀ͅ

̧̹̙̣̺̠͔̦̙͈̽̎̂̈̽̋Ḩ̷͇͉̥͓͇̺̣̈͂̃̎̋͠͠ȅ̡̜͉̹͓̖̮͈̟̩̀̐̚̚͞ w̭̞̱̪̜̺͙̖̩͚͊̉̊͒̊̏̉̆̕ą͖̯͔͉̩͕̞͇̫͒̒̓̇͗r͈̖̮͈̟̦̬͎̺̳͆̇̌͗̀n̵̺̭̹͖̣͔͗͑̐͛͋͊͊͟͠͡ͅe̜̙̠͈͉̽̋̀͑̌͘͜d̝̪͉̤̙͔̯͔̿̾̇̓̋͐̀̚ m̵̨̛̛̬̟̘̘̽̌͂̄̿̚͠͞ȩ̖͕̤̤͖̱̺̖͊̐̇͂̓͛͋̄̕͟ y̷̢̼̥̜̬̙̦̜̬͋́͂͋͊͆͊͑̈́̚o̶̡͕̮̪͖̔̇̃̈̑͋͂ų͍̬̪̹̹̼̟̅͗̐̚͝ w̶̡̭̘̮̜̰͔͇̾͒̈́̃̿́̚̕͢͟͠ę̨̧͙̮̹̱̗̖̑̎͂̌͋̀͠r̨̯̯̮͐̆̿̐̎ͅę̨̛̫̳͇̺̏̏̍̑́̈̕͜͜ ḑ̛͎̥͉̮̯̭̗̘̂̀̎̾̊̈́͑͡â̡̠̳̝̮͈̰͕͑͋̔̉̑͠͠n̲̲͈̯̦̾͛̈̓͋̔̚g̲̮͖̬̪̥͗̓̀̅̂̂́ĕ̮̜̭̟͔͙̈́͒͆͝r̷̠̼̲͍̖͚̲͋̏́̑̏͟͞o̴̜̱̗͈̫̔̇́̈́̒u̧̩̖̭͔̬̪̙̍͑̄́̅̾̽͜͞s̳̠̙̱͚̳̟͋̀͌͜͡.̵̡̦̦͔̖͇̞̉̔̈́͒͌̍̒͢͞͡

̡̨̛͓̭͙̝̮̭̓͛̍̓͆͂̚͢Ḩ̸͕͔̱̜̼̩̈̋̂̉͋͟͝ě̵̛͕̙͔̖̤͉̃̚͢͡ w̢̺̜̬̺͚̲̉͌̈̿̀͠a̡̟͔͈͔̰̮̎̐̒̾͒̕͟͡s͉̰̮̝͇̿̋̄̆͐͌̓͊ͅ r̞̦̩̠̱̪̙̽̈́̈́̄͋̔͌̈͞î̷̙̰̱͗͆̈͋͢͢͠͞ͅg̞̬̭̥̝̎͋͂̌̅͐̃̊ȟ̶̻̳̠̝̳͋̑̌̂̓͗̽͂͟͢t̴̫͎̦͓̣̍̆̋̅̽̀̇̆͡͠.̢̙̱̺̦̠̫̙̝͐̈̓̄͊̾̈͗͘  
̷̢̛͉͎̻̬͖͂̄͛͛̇̚̚̚͜͡ͅ  
.

####

"Darling,” Sasha settled a hand gently against the top of Lili's head. the twelve-year-old fondly rolled her eyes but didn’t bat him away. The two lingered on the edge of the forests around the Motherlobe under the shade of some trees. Sasha had specifically come out to check on Lili, to ask of her a favor. He and Milla had no real official mission at this point beyond find Tainted Coil members to interrogate at will. "Can you please keep an eye on Chowder?" 

“Duh.” She stretched now yawning. She stepped out of under the shade to peer up at the sun briefly. “What else am I going to do? Not like any of you are gonna let Raz or I out of the Motherlobe.” 

“The fact Razputin has attempted to sneak out a few times speaks volumes of his maturity.” The German man sighed, “Do not think I am not unaware you’ve tried as well.” 

Lili casually shrugged, uncaring that she was more or less caught out. “I want to help.”

“Help by making sure my puppy is not neglected. You have a way with dogs.” Sasha still wasn’t sure how to handle pets at times. He usually killed house plants, so the fact his dog was alive was a feat in itself.

“You’re just lucky your dog is a cloud otherwise you’d be terrible at this.” The redhead grumbled tiredly, bringing up two fingers up to her mouth to whistle. The sound draws her large Doberman Pinscher over. Mephisto, the dog barks happily circling his owner and butting his face against Lili’s extended hand. His unclipped ears flop against his head as he sniffs at Lili. The tween strokes her dog's head fondly. 

Chowder toddles behind, lagging in contrast to the more long-legged dog, yapping excitedly at the sight of Sasha, happy to mimic the older dog and circle Sasha for pets. 

“Mashed potato.” Lili stated pointing at Sasha’s puppy. 

“My beautiful mashed potato.” The German man agrees, crouching down to pet his dog. “Be mindful of her, Lili. I’m not sure how long this mission will be.” He rose after a moment, half reluctant to part from his pet, his last connection to Eddie in a way. 

“No one knows how long any mission is anymore, Sasha. The world is kinda ending.” Lili said with a shrug. "Try not to die." 

"I'll try my best." 

"If you do die, I'm gonna kick your butt." Lili made a casual throat-slitting gesture with her hand, eyes narrowing. All Sasha could do was roll his eyes now behind his sunglasses as he brushed his hands over his slacks casually. 

He turned away, stating simply as he started to walk away.

"Get in line Ms. Zanotto." 

Lili cupped her hands around her mouth calling after Sasha. "I can cut the line you know!"

####

Succoria scoffed, rolling her eyes dramatically as she shook her hair out of her face. This ‘meeting’ was becoming more of a ‘human wasting her time’ hour than anything else. The demon emperor lazily reclined back in her throne, eying the man with annoyance. "Don't waste my time, meat bag. Get to the point. Any point." 

"O-of course my Emperor!" The bondage-clad man stammered out, he flips through some papers he has on hand before reading out what is written. "The Psychonauts seem to be trying to capture our foot soldiers." 

"I'm losing my patience with these Psychonauts. Why are they so invested in us?” 

“We bolstered some of our troops with their blood.” 

Succoria sighed at that, cutting her gaze back to the wannabe Warfather. “If they are as powerful as your lot tell me, that was an idiotic fucking move.”

“We- sorry Emperor.” The man shrunk into himself only making the demon emperor roll her eyes in open irritation. Humans were so meek it was almost embarrassing. 

“Grovel later, for now, bring me someone with more demon blood. We need to make more troops if we’re going to get anything done.” She turns over strategies in her mind, contemplating how they’ll finish taking this… ‘Seattle’ for the Coil. With some land mass taken, it meant she could take more. 

“How much more demon blood do you require for proper breeding?” 

The question alone made Succoria narrow her eyes, lean forward in her chair and flick her finger across the human man’s nose disapprovingly. “At least 80% you dolt. Any less and it's pointless. Search for some, you fool. Anywhere, everywhere!” The wannabe Warfather recoiled clapping a hand over his nose meekly. 

"Go!" She roared at him, finding some mild amusement in the way he took off, nearly tripping over his too big robes. "Idiot." Succoria sinks back into her throne, muttering under her breath.

Succoria rose from her throne after a moment to peer into the rest of the building. Her other little worshipers were busy arranging spells and magic. Not that it mattered much if there wasn't enough of them. She cupped a hand around her mouth as she yelled. "Who here actually has some damn demon blood in their veins!?"

###

“It’s almost trifling to watch them squirm.” He dug his heel into the man’s throat, his weight choking out of the bondage-clad man. He only lessened the pressure of his boot so the man could greedily suck in another breath. 

“Almost.” She laughs sharply back, dark eyes dancing with amusement. The woman crouched down on level of the demon wannabe. “Now, we have some questions for you.” 

The bondage-clad man sputtered, his voice slurring. “N-never! You drowned rats!” 

“Oh, are you sure?” She practically purred, Ophelia fluttered her lashes playfully before rising from her crouch to look to her partner. “Crowley- can you convince him?”

The dark-skinned man grinned, tipping his hat at her gladly. “Anything for you, darling.” He dug his heel into the man's throat with more pressure, watching the man thrash on the ground.

Ophelia hung back, arms crossed over her chest as her boyfriend made the bondage-clad man flail. Given the boot against his neck, he couldn’t exactly get out of under Crowley. 

Eventually, the pressure made the bondage-clad man cry out, his will breaking with the pressure Crowley added. He eventually choked out some words, clearly eager to speak now. “I’ll talk!”

“Mhmm, better.” Ophelia examined her nails casually. "Given you've been running around like you're searching for something, why not tell us?" "I- why would you need to know?" His eyes darted around suspiciously, clearly nervous.

"Oh, we could help." Ophelia offered easily back with an airy kind of smile, "We can't unless you're able to tell us something."

"You're of the sea of black tears! I-I know from legends you're not trustable!"

Ophelia and Crowley exchanged a brief glance. The dark-skinned man scratched at his chin thoughtfully. "Sea of Black tears? Sounds like a metal band." 

"It is a sea of suffering! Black waters and you drank from it!" The bondage wearing man stammered out, "Disgusting, horrible, soggy-" 

Crowley just pressed his boot back down on the man's throat cutting him off. "Insults come later, tell us about the sea little man." The two recently drowned have limited patience for any more sputtering and defenses from the bound man. 

"Tell us who or what you are. Most people don't go round parading their kink everywhere." Ophelia pressed, jabbing the man in the side with the toe of her boot. 

"D-Don't kink-shame me!" The pinned man sputtered awkwardly, turning a decidedly strange shade of red under his many layers of clothing and bondage gear tightly woven around his face. 

"Kink shamin' is our kink, pal." Crowley drawled out casually as can be for a man stepping on another man's throat with varying levels of pressure. "So give me a god damn boner."


	2. Who is the lamb and who is the knife?

.  
.  
H̵̢̧̹͓͖͔̞̮̝̉̓͌̊̀̚ͅȇ̵̡͈̪̣̬̊̓͗͛̍̉l̴̞̖͍͎̝̣̤̼͆͋̔̐̕ͅļ̣͕̣̪̿͌̏̐̈́͠ͅỏ̮̖͖́͌͋̂̏͂͌̍͢͟?̸̨̛͚̜̹͇̘̻̝̑͑͛͌̾̓̃͟  
̸̘͖̝̺͈̭̖̒͐̿͌̐̆͘͟͟͟͞Ḣ̞͉̙̳͐͆̄̾̚ͅě̘̰͇̪̭͙̻͎̽̅͛͒̾͢͠l̝͍̼̞͉̠̩̻̿͐̓͊̚͢͡ĺ̲̭͙̟̩̭͉͙̩̇̏̔̑̈́͢ö̵̡̲̦̘̂̿͘͘͢͜͟͡ͅ?̠̭͍͚̝̏̾̇̑͌͂͟͞  
͍͖͖̜̊̑͐̕̕͝͠ͅH̷͈̣̫̗̲͚̦̬̥̍̑̋͛͂̊̆̓̕͢Ȩ͔̖̠̻͕͋̊͑̓̍̃l̝̜͔̰̞̥̥̫̉͑̃̉̾ḽ̷̩̳̟͍̑͐͗͌͊̕͡o̱̥̦̳̭̘̍̊͗̌͑̅͛͠?̸̧͚͕̥̝̳̈̒͂̿̚͠͝  
̛̛͍̰̬͔̪̻͓̯̇̂̃͢  
̷̢̝͉̻̼̞̈́̈͆͆̿͊̅͜C̵̢͕̫̻͊̅̋̽̂͂͟͜͞ͅą̢̪͕̗̺̭̝̝̣̆̽̒́̌̅͘̚n͕͔̰̯̫͉̯̮̓̉̃͘͜͡ y̷̪͍̞͙͓̓͂͗̀̿̏̽͘͢͝ö̢͔͙͎͍̪̗̩̖̉́̉̈́͞u̵̪̺͉̼̯̲̱̿͒̊̈́̀̈́̾̃̕͘͢ h̨̫̦̻̜͕͕̻̽̂͛̅͐̀̚͠ẹ̢̝̭̲̫̔̅͗͛̉̉͒͑̇â̷̢͙̜͂̅̄̎̔͛͟͠ͅr̡̰̞̹͈͊̆͛̉̏̀͑̾͘ m̛̬̥̠̬͕̻͉̜̦̔̄͗̔̽̆̚̕͠ẻ̷͕̲̜̭̯̏̾̀͛͢͟͜?̧̢̠͚̟̜̱̇̑̔̃̑͒̓͋̏͛͢͢ͅ  
.  
.

 

.  
.  
H̟͓̤͔͋̾̌̂͘͟ ȅ̶̢̪̳̮̖̺͋̓̓͘͜͠͝͠ l̨͍͈̠̯̬͖͐̆̄́̎̚͘͢͜ ḷ̷̨̗̭͇̠̥̭̽̈́̿̍ͅ ȯ͓̰̲̳̣̟͎̘͗̎̈͌̕ ?̡̝͙̞͍̠͚̬̰̐̅̒͑̏͂̑͜͞  
̶̢͙̺̤̊͒̓̄̔̉̔̍͢  
̵̡̦̟̣̖̳͓͒̓͋́̈Ṗ̸̢̢̛͎͕͍̲͛͑̈͑̀̐͘͜  
̶̛̜̩̝̪̱̗̳̟͂͌͑̋̚l̢̨͓͉͚̙̞̉̈́͒̎̋  
̛̮̝̫͖͓̱̇̅͗͌͌̕̚͟͢͝è̖̮̲͈̳̰̼̳̊̈́̓̏̿̐͋͘͜  
̡̩͔̞͓̩̱̹̥̳̽̌̐̓̊͋̚͡a̸̛̯̯͎̫͖̅͂͋̄̐̔̂͗  
̵̧̟̜͎̞͔̖̩͍͎̅͗̾̅͛̎͡͞s̷͈̗͉̟̮̖͔͉̼͒̿̄̉̇̈̍  
̶̧͓̠͖͖̼̋́̇̀̓͐̚e̩̘̫̟̬͙͈̾̋̔̃͛͐̿̒̚͝  
̶̼͖͖̊̆͜͟ D̨̰̫̬͓͚͔̀͋̈́̔̓ ó̵̡̘̥̭̝̻̠̻͊̃̈́̍͝͡ n̡̲̹̺̬̣͉̭̾͐̾̽́̚͞ '̵̧̩̮͔̞̼͕̓͆̈́͗͋̈͑̾͠͠ ţ̡͉̤̪͚̹̤̼̂̽͗̾̽͗͐̆͡ l̢̦̗̺̜̦͖̹̬̊̈̉̄̆̐̑̆̚͟ è̛̳̬͉̥̗͈̺͂͑̀̓̓͝͞ a̢̨͖̦̣̖̻̫̗͊̓̓͒͑̇͋̚ v̷̼͓̜̳͖͖͆̉̎̋̊̏̃͊͝ e͈͇̫̖̙̤͓̲͓̩͋̑́͒̎͋͝ m̸̡̗͙̰͓̏̂̈́̈̓̎̍̉̾͜͞ e͙͓̙̺̳̻̱̅͗̐̆̈̆̎̀͝ a̵͓͔̣̘͙̩̍̎͌̾͐̓̎͘͠ l̴̨̢̪͓͓͙̫̺̔̈́̿̅͒̅͡ ǫ͕̝̥̘̮̝̍̉̽̇̐̚̚͠ ņ̶̧̜̫̙͇̰̏́̉̑͑͗͢͝͝ ę̻̘̥̻̙̓̇̏͛̒̚  
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.

###

The ground shudders and groans as pavement cracks, black water starting to seep through the opening flooding the sidewalks. The water laps over holes, settling between cracks and holes left by human and earthly destruction. 

Red flowers shaped like hands sway in a slow breeze that sweeps through the desolation of downtown Seattle. Flowers have started to weave their way up buildings, the red stands out against the grey of most buildings. 

Sasha takes a slow drag of a cigarette, gaze sweeping across the pavement. “More things are starting to come up.” 

Sasha recognizes the remains of the art museum, speared clearly through by a statue of a hand holding a guitar. The statue itself looks ancient, weathered by time but still in one piece even after breaking through what was once a grand building. 

He exhales after a moment, shaking ash from his cigarette as he looks to Milla. 

“They are, but- it shows a pattern.” She lowly agrees, ignoring Sasha’s smoking for now as she levitated over the crumbling pavement to land by some flowers that had grown along what was once a restaurant. “Haven’t you noticed, darling- every time before another thing bursts from the ground these appear?” She plucks a flower turning it over in her fingers. 

“Do you think they’re a summoning point?” He drifted over, reluctant to leave a comfortable levitation given the unsteadiness of the ground underfoot. No one knew what could and would collapse under them. 

“They also seem to be pointing in one direction.” She motioned with her hand, catching Sasha’s gaze. 

“Point-?” He looks to where she gestures, understanding blossoming after a moment. He pinched the bridge of his nose feeling silly he hadn’t picked up on it before. “Mein Gott…” 

“It seems they’re pointing back to where they’ve started.” Milla’s lips curl into a pleased smile.”Shall we go say hello?” She tucked a flower behind her ear. Sasha took one last drag of his cigarette before dropping it, he crushes it into dust with a Psi-fist. 

“It would only be polite.” He extended his arm out to her, Milla had no qualms with looping hers with Sasha’s own, the two levitating together in the direction the flowers seemed to point. The flowers drop on and off but still seem to point to a specific direction. Sasha stays close to Milla, leery of losing sight of her or the flowers. 

She catches his eye motioning at a monument. The sight of it makes the German man suck in a short breath. It isn’t the tallest by far, but it has changed the land around it. The towering sword monument pierces the sky effortlessly casting a grand shadow behind it. From the sky it is easy to see just how the sword has changed the world around it. The land has reformed around the stone blade, shifting to sloping hills leading down into a freshwater stream. Grass has already started to grow in places breaking through the concrete that once stood there. 

Milla is the first to land, walking forward curiously. She only comes to a stop to wait for Sasha. Sasha lands hesitantly on the grass, he’s gladly Milla’s shadows as he tries to take in the scenery. What was once before is gone, replaced by nature and the oddities of the monuments breaking through the ground. Sasha doesn’t even recognize what could have been. Seattle has been permanently changed by… whatever this is. 

“We only have so long to look, darling. The weather should be turning soon enough.” She makes a gesture at the sky, further off dark clouds gather tightly together. 

“We’ve at least found this, we’ll consider that a victory even if we can’t look around fully.” He agrees in turn. He adjusts his sunglasses as he drifts to stand next to the Brazilian woman. She pats his arm briefly before letting her gaze sweep across the greenery. “It looks like we aren’t the only ones who’ve been here.” 

Milla nods slowly, “There are makings of campfires and- tents.” She smiled at Sasha, “Shall we see if we can have a lovely conversation with anyone?” 

Sasha snorted, “If they shoot at us, it is your fault.” 

“Darling, if they shoot first, they’ll be very sorry they gave us the opening.” She flips her hair out of her face casually extending an arm for the German man. He gladly took the offer, looping his arm with her own as the drifted through the first layer of the would be camp. It wasn’t a complete circuit, but it would do for now. Signs of life were hard to miss, just as much as the fact whoever had been here had left in quite a hurry. The two came to a stop before what looked like a trampled tent. 

“Seems the Coil came here before we did.” He stroked his chin thoughtfully, reaching out (by force of habit really) to brush over the tent for any psychic fingerprints. 

The Brazilian woman makes an agreeable noise releasing her hold on Sasha to drift over to the tent. “It’s almost a pity. If they were refugees, they could be in trouble.” 

“Gives us more reason to find a member of the Tainted Coil and question them thoroughly.” Sasha stated slowly back, crossing his arms behind his back. He was coming up empty psychic fingerprints wise. Whatever happened here and been purely physical. 

“Should I check the next layer and you pick through the wreckage?” Milla questions with an arch of her brow. 

“There could be people hiding there. So yes.” Splitting up was always a gamble, but it wasn’t the first time they’ve parted to circle around a target. “You tend to do better with people than I do.” 

Milla gives a quiet snort at that, “Darling, you can handle things just fine, you’re just impatient to get to the answers.” 

“I’m not paid to hem and haw, Milla.” 

“Mhmm.” She flaps a hand dismissively back, taking to the air easily. “If you need me, you know how to reach me.” 

“Ja.” He agreed, jamming his hands into his pocket as he watched his partner levitate off of the edge of the top layer of the camp to the next. The German man picked up on walking, gaze drifting across other downed tents and demolished fire pits. 

As the clouds shifted overhead revealing more of the sun, something amongst the grass caught the German man’s eye. He arched a brow curiously finding himself drawn to it. He crouched low, carefully reaching out to part the tall grasses to find what was reflecting the sun so clearly. 

A black eight-ball pin glittered back at him. Sasha felt his expression soften, he remembered Eddie always wearing on his vest. He hesitated before gently picking it up, turning it over in his gloved hand.

The needle pricked his thumb through the fabric. Sasha jerked back with a low swear. The pin drops out of his hand rolling away. The sky crackles with thunder as clouds drift back over making the world so much darker. 

“Damn it.” He moves to grab it only to feel a weight press down over him. Not physically, but- he _feels_ it. He scrambles to stand, a hand flying to his forehead as he stands. The air is knocked out of him as he realizes who he’s looking at. 

Eddie, but not truly Eddie stares back at him, he isn’t standing as much as restrained by hands. Amongst them Sasha can pick out hints of metal hooks dug into places, keeping Eddie firmly in place. Blood has dried on the hands, on the chains. Sasha’s stomach lurches but his voice is stuck in the back of his throat. He’s hung almost limply like a puppet whose strings have been cut. 

Too many hands to count or keep track of the limbs that lay over Eddie holding him in place. Several hands grasp at his throat, more hands clutching at his shoulders with white-knuckled grips, hands woven through his hair yanking his head back on the edge of pulling his hair out, hands clutching at his chest, grasp at his arms- he’s obscured by the limbs bursting forth from the ground. 

His head lulls to the side but his eyes are focused on Sasha. 

His voice warbles and creaks like rotting wood. He forces himself forward straining against the hold as he speaks. 

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˙̶͉̗͚̹̜̫͐̽̓̿̆̑ǝ͇̹̳̥̙͈̝̊͑̓̌̍͊͊͆͂͡ɯ̶͉͖͕͙̯͈̝̒̿̃̂̏̐̒͢͢ ƃ̪̯̩̦̭̒̓̇͗̉̄̉͌͝͡u̴̟̪̯͖̣̞̍̈́͋͂͢͠ᴉ̛͇̭̭̭̲̊̆̐́̒̿͂͒͢͞ʇ̛͉̻̪̩̘̖̬̖͓̾́̓͑͠͠ͅɐ̴̨̻̦̪̱̥̜͙͔̽̽̇͌͟͞ǝ̥͚̝̖͇̇̍̓̕̕ s̶͔̪͕̺̣̟̄͗̅̿͌̊͟͟,͍̞̬͈̞̓̂̽͗͛͛͠ǝ̸̨̧̩̘̫̲̝̿̂̊͑̋̂͢ͅɥ̴̡̛̪͇̞͖̐̋͌̐͌̌̈͌͟ŝ̵̨̤͙̳̱̱̖̦̽̋̃̃͂̕͢͞ ƃ̧͚͕̳͍͈̰̿̄̈́̂̃͐͊̈͢͠ᴉ̱̙͎̮̝͙̒́͊̂d̸̛̦͍͚͚͙̄̓̾͑͒̈͆̉͜ ɹ̵̨̡͉͎̼̖̞̠̓͆̅̂̌̓̓͢͞ͅǝ̸̲̟͓̳̱̦̹̲̍̇̈́̃̐͟ƃ̷̥̯͚̬̥̱͖͐̂̏̐̇̉ɐ̡̖̩͎̩͉͂͆͂̽̍͂̎̔͠ͅǝ̯̺̗͚͂͂͑̄̿̊ͅͅ s͚̟̲̬̘̗͌̎̒͂̊̀͆̌͟͞ᴉ̱̦͇̹̙͕͎̟̖͛͒̎̍̍̓͋̊̚ɥ̱̪̩̱̫͙̺̤̪̐͒̽̄͒̒̌͞ͅʇ̡̬̤͖̝̩̼̊̃͒͐͌̍͊̽͊͜͡ ǝ̘̻͖̖͍̽̇̔̀̿̿̽͆̃ǝ̷̛̦̼̤̮̜͆̓́s̷̨̧̡̱̪̲̺̭̣͑͆̆̓̊̚ ṇ̱̜̗̻̦̿͒̔̏̃̓o̢̡͕̖͉̝̭̦̽̾̍̂̈̉̓̂͊̕⅄̨̺̮̘̠̙̝̞̟̓͆̎͛̈̏̔͆͟  
̶̨̻̪̳̯͈̳͕̔̍͂̓͋ͅͅp̸̠̖͚̪̱͚͖̠̆̏͂̉̑̌͠͝ǝ̧͚̮͔̩̫͔̮͒͂̃̿͜͝ǝ̺̥͙͇̠̦̠̻̽̅̏͊̽̑̕ɹ̡̜̫͍͍̯̮͗̑͑̎̚͘͟ƃ̴̩͉̗̼͙͔̮͐͗͒̿̚ p̸̩͙͖̗͚͇̑̄͛͗̉͛͊̚̕ū̷̬̜͍̪̮̞̰̟̬̖͊͐̾͝ɐ̡̟̳̦͖̖̙͗̀̆̌͑̑͞ ǝ̸̢̛̟̦̦̬̙̘̭͉͗̌͒̃̄̈́̿̐p̴͙̞̯̳̔̌̐́͆̊͠ͅᴉ̞̙̲͉͉͕̯̏͐̀̈́̔̓̋́̎̂ɹ̸̡̟̮̰̺̩̹̖͗́̆̑͘͠ͅd̡̦̭͉̮̿̉̑̎̓̚͡ ɥ̴̮͎̩̰̭̹̈̉̃̄̇͋͟ʇ̵̢͍͙̭̲̬̭͉̀͗̀̓̓̚͞ᴉ̡̛̥̦͎̯̖͔͈̫̓͆̂̊̚ʍ̼̯̬̞͎̣͎̄̉͋͋̊̉͜͜ p̸̡̡͔̪̙̠͍̬̰̀̈́͆̃͆̀̿͌̕͠ǝ̸̢̫̰̮̘̯̥̪̇̈́̿͆̓͝ļ̧̢̬̺̄̉͆̍̆̔̕͢͠ľ̴̨͔̦̠͔͚̗̟͆̅̈̇̕ᴉ̢̠̙͕̹̜͔̓͐͑̑͘͡͡ɟ̢̻͓̼̼̳̳͉̙̒̈̋̉̋̃̋̅̊̚ ʎ̴̢̣̩̰̫͒̏́͌̿̃͞ƃ̴̡̨̡͎͓̣̬̄̈́̈͑̒̒̕̚ƃ̢̻͉̟̦̳̞̏͗̊̂̈́͟ͅᴉ̸̢̙̱̼̰̭̐̎̈́͑̌͡d̴̡̛̲̣͓̤̬̤͔̖͍̑̏̐̃̅ ǝ̶̭̼̺͎͕̯̈̎̆̑͋͆̆͘̚͜͝l̨̻͖͔̺̰̏̓̄́͗̓͢͢͡͠ʇ̵̢̜̣̯̦͔͑͒̊̋̈̅̍͡ʇ̶̥̖͈͕̦̣̙̩̀͂̎̿ᴉ̴̧̺͕̘̖̖́̍̈͌͂̈̉͠͝l͍̳̤͓̺̜̲̎́̍̏͝ '̱͙̙̤̥̞̼͓̍͛̊͊̚ʎ̶̧͙̱͖̙̭̮͐̍͆̉͊͜͠ʇ̴̳͎̦̜̖͚̥͙̼̻̾́̄̐͊̕̚͡ș̢͎̜̦͙͑̈́̅͆̇̕̕͞͝ͅɐ̶̛͈̤̜͓̰̜̠͂̿̊̌u̴͈̱̩̱̦̬̰̥̤̐̀̀̿̎̏̕͝ ɐ̢̝̘̯̠̭̈͐̓̔͐͊̏̐͘͢͝ š̛̛̖̥̘͇̓̆͂̓͐̿͜ɐ̴̱̜͍̦͕̯̌̄̅̈́͗͝ʍ̱̪̬̞̭̑́͒̐̚̕͟͜͝͠͠ ǝ̻͕̭̼͚̿̄̌͑̊̾͒̅͡͠ɹ̴̛͖͔͓̦͙̞̅̇̉̋̋͌͑̕͢ǝ̷̯̰͔̤͕̺̄̆̇͂̄͗͐̽͋͘ͅɥ̸̢̢͈̠̘̹̥̐̋͂͗̂͘͢͟͝┴̶̛͙͓̠̦͓͉̼̹͒̐̆́̚  
̧͉̲͎̻͈̲͍̜͓̑͂͂͒̆͑̿̂͆ǝ̷̡̤̺͇̗̭͉̝̹̈̔̃̏͋̋̚ɯ̴̯͇̞̳̻̹̹͂̉̑̃͐͠͝ᴉ̺̦͈̺͍̏̑͌̇͘͝┴̷̢̗̟̣̻̱̬̗̯̐͋̆̿̇̿̋̓ ∀̸̨͕̗̜̙͖͈̃̃̔͆͂̀͒͠ ư̹̳͍̩̯̰͙̪̫͑̀̀̓̾͟͠͡͝͠o͔̰͈̥͌̐̑̒̇̈̓̕͜͜͡͡d̛͎̤͕̤̤̞̞͇̒̓̓̌͞∩̸͔̰͍͉̬̦͐͑̀̎̀̈̏̑̕̚ ǝ̻̜̳̠̤͚̰̼͋̆͒̈̈́͘͠ɔ̸̱̰͓̻̪͎͚̺̅̓̊͋̍͑̚͘͟͝u̢͉̠̣͚͗̔̐̿̈́͘̕͡O̡̬̪̹̝͛̏͛̕̚̕͠͞  
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Sasha feels frozen in place, unable to make any sounds as Eddie cries out. The roadie struggles against the hands, thrashing even as the grip on him tightens. Hands drag through his chest, parting fabric, into skin into bone. His ribs glitter red with fresh blood. His heart beats rapidly beneath the ribs. Sasha can make out his intestines watching as they drop without the protection of his body. The flesh and muscle of his arms are shredded leaving bone in his wake. The metal hooks in his body creak and moan, breaking and hitting the grass audibly.

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ǝ̲̰̤͙̟̹͍̉͋̔̃̽̈́͢͝q̦̯͙̣̽͆̍̀͑̔͢ ộ̜͍͓͕̩̉̃̈̅͘͡͝͠ʇ̷̨͕̯̼͇̟̜̹̌̉̋̐̒͂͜ ǝ̵̧͍̪̮̝̗̻͍̖̯̾͋̔̇́̒̐͐̔ɯ̸̧͍̪̻̞̰͕̦̿͆͋͐̉͂͗͂͢͢͠ ʇ̰̰̰̟̼̼͙̈́̈͛͒̈́͢u̢̲̮̜̺̎͌̑͆̓̒͝ͅɐ̛̛̩̜͓̞̳͌̾͟͢͡͝ʍ̢̧̡̛̙͉̩̿͐̅̃̏͜ ʎ̶͉̞̱͇̯̿̎̈́̔̏͆͌͜ǝ̙̦͙͇̙̜͛̈̉͒̉̚͜͞͠ͅͅͅɥ̨̦̥̫͍̃͑̾̅̏͋̕ʇ̴̡̛͍̲̯͍̐͌̂͌͋̈́̽̓͛ ʇ̧͈̖̼̗̲͋̿̅͒̆̚̚͡ɐ̴̢̝̯̟̫̳̰̝͒͑̿̓͌ͅɥ̶̻̮͈̣̻̘̥̼̆̑͗͐̈́̐̕ʍ̨̬̻͙̖̩̈́̀͒̍̈̓̀͐͠ ʇ̷̻̻̻͉̟̺͍̀̿̒͒̉̏̄̚s̡̛̟̦̠͚̩̺͉̫̔̿̀̀̔͋͐̀͟n̴̛͈̤̱͔̫̦͙̮̥̝̍̊̏̊̏̄̒̇͡ɾ̧̦̭͇̹̤͖̽̉͆̈̒̌͑̕ s̴̨͍͔̝̠̟̩̀̏̄͌͘̚͢͡͡͡ͅᴉ̷̧̺̺̹̻̀̋̈́͟͞͝͝ ǝ̘͉̯̲͍̐̐͋̕̕̚͜͢ɥ̸̛̮͍̟̯̹̙̬̳̉͊̃͊̓͐̕͜͠ͅs̡̤̦͎̩̗̗̤͑̂̈́̓̒́̆̅͐͜͟ ǝ̶͇͕̲̰͓̭̬̟̓͂̎̇̏͆͑͠͡ͅq̶̛̭̣̥̩͇̦̩̻̰̓̓͗͢͝ʎ̢̙͙̟̹̳͖̦̔͒̂̉̅̽͘͜͡ɐ̸̨̨̛͈͈͇̼̪̘͈̄̍̊̅̏̃͡͝W̢̯̳̭̻̟̙̯͚͛̌̈͆͗̚͜  
̶̡̧͔͇͎̻̜̂̔͑̎̈́͘̚͘̕ǝ̵̨͔̳͓̣̺̭̆̀̃̎̃́͛̈̑̕͢ɯ̮̺͈͉̭͊͌͑̊͡ u̴̹͖̩̹̫̱̥̞̞͗̉͒̀͋̊̕͘̚ͅo̧̱̯̭̻̬͋͒̓̌̍̕͢͢͞͝ p̶̨̝̟̖͉̩̯̓̒̏͑̃͜͝l̳̰͙̰̱͍̙̪͑̾̒͋͑̕͟͠ȯ̸̼͇̞̮̦̻̝̮̦̅̽̈́̓̇̈͢͠ɥ̨̛̯͇͔̫͓̪͗̄͒̉͑͑̃͜͞ ɐ̧̮̜͔̣͍͙̽̍̌̋̎ ʇ̵̧̡̖͚̼̗̦̜̱̉̆͆̆͗́̏͌̕̚ͅŏ̷̧̰̜̦̖͎̠͈̗͋͛̊̋̾͑͜ƃ̵̨͕̙̜̗̮̣̒̔̚͞͝͞ s̸̡͕̤̦͕̦͐͌̏̇̓͐͝,͇̬̬̩̼͓̝͛̆̄̆̕ǝ̶̨̖̠̝̯̗͕̜͒̌̽̓̐͋͌͑ɥ̠̪̟͕́̇̓̐͋̕͢ͅS̡͖̳̰͍͇̜̹̞̅̔̈̎̾̒͟͝  
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Thumbs press into his throat trying to silence him but it just makes Eddie so much louder as he screams. He screams so loudly Sasha’s teeth rattle in his head. The German man clutches at his head, sinking to his knees unable to look away. 

 

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¡̸̩̳͎͔̝̐̈͐̊́͂̏͆̌p̟͍͚̲̠͗̀̐̿̍̃͢͜͝͡ͅɐ̬̩̘̳̝͚̍̀̎̽̈́̿̋͐̕̚ǝ̸̬͉̼̠͔̗̂͊͑̓̒̐̔͞͝ɥ̶̡̘̻̥̜͒̽͛͢͡͝ ʎ̶̧̹̝̘͖̗͛̀̍̓̃ɯ̴̣̙̺̟͍̘͓̰͖̅̀͗̇͊ ɟ̷̳͓̞̩̺̞̤͇͖̈͗̿̅̏͐͂̚͜o̵̤͖͖͔̫̞͋̿̽̓͆̆̋͜͝͠ ʇ̴̧̢̞͔̟̰̼̒̓̎̕͞ņ̧̬̙̥̤̰̇͐̈́͒͐ơ̥̟̗̳̗̱̖̝͑̊̒̓͐ ʞ̮̩̠͈̱̻̜͉͈̌́̓̇̌͟ɔ̷̧̰̣͇͈̌̓͐̚̕͜͡n̘̺̺̙̹̲̗̈́͂̀̐͞͠͡ɟ̮͖͙͔̠͔̔̎̊̌͂̒͢͝ ǝ̴̧̧͇͙̮͓̖͙̲͛̄̃̃̍̓́̒ɥ̘̖̫̰̏͆́̐͆̾̎̚͢ʇ̷̣̬͍̼͚̤͓̖͎̇̓̓͊̊͌͢ ʎ̷̡̢̛̘̬̭̒͌́̓̋̆̾͢͝ͅɐ̶̢̛̩̜̜̘̝͍̱͒̈́̈̿͂̏͗͊͜ʇ̰͔̯̟̣͂̿̾̒͝s̢̤̳̻̜̹̤̻̫̾͒͛̓̂̉̾͋͆̕ '̶̡̮̗̠̱̱̤͗͋̿͟͞ʞ̡̧͎̮̼͛́̍̆̋͑̌̾͛ɔ͉͚̪̲̣̞͐͌̈̇̽͑̚͜ņ̸̡̝̦̼̘̯͖͛̆̆́̍͟ɟ͇͇̟̙̌̇̂̒̌̎̌͊̏ͅ ǝ̵̧̲͔̹̤̫̩̎͋͐̎̆̍́̎̕͝ɥ͖̟̜̳̙͔͕̖͖͔̾̈́̉̆̅͛͌͌̆̕ʇ̹̖̻̪̝͕͋͌̏̅͌͠ͅ ʎ̣̙̹̻͓̟̩̥̅͛̈́͛͘͞ɐ̣̗͕͈̝̟̊̏͆̌͌̚ʇ̛̱̖͉̮̯̝͊̽̈́͊̋s̵̡̩̥̰͕̀̾͂̈́̈́͌͊̅͝͡ '̶̘̠̲̣̱̱̍̉̒̕͡ʞ̞͖̳̲̗̀̒̀̊͑̌̕͝ɔ̨͙͔̼̦̘̓̓̏̾̌̾͢n̙̤͈̝̻͌͆̅̔͆̌͘͡ɟ̸̡̖̬̬̦͓̺͔̰̐͌̅̑̕ ǝ̴̻͈̪̝̱̼̤͐͂͆͑̀͘͘ɥ̛̥̼̤̘̟͚͚̓̇̀̓͒͜͢͞͞ʇ̸̡̛͖̣̯̭̃̿̔̀̕͞ ʎ̛̫̙̜̗̖͈̒̽͒̆̓̽̈̈ɐ̵̧̝͉̜̹̯̖͑̂́̏͋͢͢ʇ̵̡̛͎̝͚̈͒͜͡S̸̢͕̗̹͊͆͗͆͜͠  
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Flesh is torn away in pieces by the sea of hands as Eddie struggles. Fingertips drag through Eddie’s skin like wet putty, pulling it away, revealing chunks of his skull beneath. He’s practically peeled open, peeled apart with a wet crack of bone and meat. His hair is yanked back as he’s completely scalped. He tries to hold his face on, but it slops out of his skeletal hands completely. He seems to be screaming at something, _someone_ Sasha can’t see. 

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ǝ̸̫̟̗̹̩̟̋͐̽͑͂͗̓ɯ̠͉̰̣̯̲̯͂̈́̏͌͘͞ ʞ̰̹͉͔̦͙̌̃̐̊͆̏͋͐͠ɐ̳̱̥̥̋̿̀̒̑͘͜͡ǝ̸̫̝̞̯̻̖͗́͞͞ͅͅɹ̖͉̱̰̤̂̏͊̏̔̆̏͢͞q̶̢̗̘̮̻̘͙̹̮̦̏͗̀͂̋̚̕͝͞͞ ʇ̸̛̺̣̻̞͕̤̄̿͌̊̅͌͘͟,̗͉̜̲̥͓̪̩̩̎̈́̀̃̔͞͠ư̷̢̨͇̭͈͌̽͒̃̕̚͠o̢̨͓̮͙̩̞̓̍͑̆̏̏̑͋͜͡ʍ̴̭̤̣̼̬̻̭͈̾͂́͂̄͛͛̕ ǹ̡͕̤̜̘̜͎͖͉͆͊́̉́͂͑͘o͈̹̺̦̯̩̝̓̏̋̏̔̐̃͢ʎ̴͇̟͔̤͍͎̐͌̌̈̃́͜͠ͅ '̨̩̙͙̐̓̚͢͠͞ͅś̸̛̛̪̱͍̺̝̟̹̲̟̦͊̿͌̅u̧̹͔̗̗̿̒̐̕̚ᴉ̶͈̖͖̱̱̠͔͆͑́̀̚͝ɐ̷̤̫̱̱̖̱̝̺̏̑̾̇̌͢͢ɥ̛̱̬̲̬̖̪͂̿̐̊̉͟ɔ̨̲̬̦̦͈̲̠̤̅̽͑̉̎̓̌̎̿͜͡ ǝ̢̨̯͈̣̲̩̠̳̽̿̿͑̽͑̿̕͠s̶̨̯̹̜̞̲̟͖̒̐̒͋̔͘͠ǝ̼͚͉̤̞̑͆͒̉̎̈́͐͢͟ɥ̴̧̛̛͉̦͓̦̤̌̔̎̃͊̈͜͟͞ʇ̧̗̩̰͈̺̓͐̔̾͡͞ u̙̬̻̝͔̇̃̒͂̇̈̎͜ᴉ̸̢̨̡̛̛͍̼͍̗̪̮͙͗͊͐̿͆͘ ṳ̶̹͙͉̻̤̘̎̾̇̒̓͊͆̂̍ǝ̵̳̗͖̭͖̪͚̣͑̒͛̎̎̒͢ʌ̴̗̬͓͙̜͉̰̭̋̓̃͌̔̚̕͠Ǝ̛̛̪̠̭͇͎͕͙̈́͊̈́̑̚  
̶͍͇͎̪̩̝͑͗͛̂̑̆̍̊̾ͅ˙͙̝̪̠̝͚̠̯̗̃̆̋͋̕ǝ̨̹̯̯̪͍͉͉̀͊̀̂̿̈́͢͢ɯ̵͖̟̙̟͈͈̱̀̓̈̾̇̎ͅ d͈͕̱͇̲͇̝̓̆̃͌͋̑̊͒͒o̞̦̭̜̦̲̍̓͂̓͑̽̍̊͜ʇ̺̼͕̭͙̩̫̌̄͑̇͝s̶̨̠̻̣̭̋̈̇̎͠ ʇ̤͉̯͙͙͍̪̤͋̽̔͆͑̒̇̏̍,̵͔̳̭̫̯̳̝̖̎͊̈́̋͝ͅͅu̷̹̱͓̱̾̓̉̔͘͟͠ɐ̡̛͓͍̩̬̠͌́̓̄̄̎͘̕͞ɔ̷̡̟̘̻̻̞̮͗͛̔̀̿̆͒̾̕ ṋ̞̘͚̻͖̗̯̔̐͒͊͗̒̅͊̉̑ó̧͔͎̰̠͑̓̎́̔͞͡͝ʎ̵̱͎̟̬̯̟̞͉̱̉͋̍͊̃͡ͅ '̶̡̠̩̘̣̠͇̓̊͌͆̑̚̚̚͝s̨̨̭̭͔̽̓̇̏̋ȗ̵͚̳̪͓͔̱̒̍̑͛͊̐͝ᴉ̘͉̱̖̯̯̩̙̃͛̇̇̐̿͘ɐ̴̨̛͖̖̦̪̆̆͛̔̐͘̕͘͢ͅɥ̵̧̛͍̹̥̝̖̊͛̇̒̈́͋ͅɔ̯̖̭̭͎̪̲̦͕̂̃̽̒̿̇͟͡ ǝ͉̬̮̲̣̤̓̆̔͐́̽͠͞͠s̢̟͕̗̹̤͗̉̓̾͋̉͘͟͢͡͡ǝ̨̩̘̘̥̮̓̄͌̏̎͛̕͜ɥ̣͕̖͕̘̟̮̟̂̑̄̔͑͌̒̓͊ʇ̴̨͎̩͕̥̳̭̰̯͐̓̂̿̇͑͜͞͞ ɥ̶̨̙̼͙̰͖͉̈́̆͂͐ʇ̷͍͖̝̫̩̓̏̓̈͞ᴉ̶̢̱͈̱̠̟̫͊͆̔̉̒̆͆̅ʍ̷̹̝̙͎̔̋͆̿̓͟ u̯͉̰̞̬̓̑̄̿͆̊̿ǝ̶̗̹̜͎̳̦̲̓̆̔̒̄͘͢͜ʌ̡̥͕̦͎̗͆͌̎̋̈́̿Ǝ̵̨̲͇̬̄̒͒̕̚͢ͅ  
.  
.

Eddie leans forward, exposed skull and spinal column as he calls out. As he repeats words from earlier, trying to make Sasha _remember_. 

 

.  
ǝ̲̰̤͙̟̹͍̉͋̔̃̽̈́͢͝q̦̯͙̣̽͆̍̀͑̔͢ ộ̜͍͓͕̩̉̃̈̅͘͡͝͠ʇ̷̨͕̯̼͇̟̜̹̌̉̋̐̒͂͜ ǝ̵̧͍̪̮̝̗̻͍̖̯̾͋̔̇́̒̐͐̔ɯ̸̧͍̪̻̞̰͕̦̿͆͋͐̉͂͗͂͢͢͠ ʇ̰̰̰̟̼̼͙̈́̈͛͒̈́͢u̢̲̮̜̺̎͌̑͆̓̒͝ͅɐ̛̛̩̜͓̞̳͌̾͟͢͡͝ʍ̢̧̡̛̙͉̩̿͐̅̃̏͜ ʎ̶͉̞̱͇̯̿̎̈́̔̏͆͌͜ǝ̙̦͙͇̙̜͛̈̉͒̉̚͜͞͠ͅͅͅɥ̨̦̥̫͍̃͑̾̅̏͋̕ʇ̴̡̛͍̲̯͍̐͌̂͌͋̈́̽̓͛ ʇ̧͈̖̼̗̲͋̿̅͒̆̚̚͡ɐ̴̢̝̯̟̫̳̰̝͒͑̿̓͌ͅɥ̶̻̮͈̣̻̘̥̼̆̑͗͐̈́̐̕ʍ̨̬̻͙̖̩̈́̀͒̍̈̓̀͐͠ ʇ̷̻̻̻͉̟̺͍̀̿̒͒̉̏̄̚s̡̛̟̦̠͚̩̺͉̫̔̿̀̀̔͋͐̀͟n̴̛͈̤̱͔̫̦͙̮̥̝̍̊̏̊̏̄̒̇͡ɾ̧̦̭͇̹̤͖̽̉͆̈̒̌͑̕ s̴̨͍͔̝̠̟̩̀̏̄͌͘̚͢͡͡͡ͅᴉ̷̧̺̺̹̻̀̋̈́͟͞͝͝ ǝ̘͉̯̲͍̐̐͋̕̕̚͜͢ɥ̸̛̮͍̟̯̹̙̬̳̉͊̃͊̓͐̕͜͠ͅs̡̤̦͎̩̗̗̤͑̂̈́̓̒́̆̅͐͜͟ ǝ̶͇͕̲̰͓̭̬̟̓͂̎̇̏͆͑͠͡ͅq̶̛̭̣̥̩͇̦̩̻̰̓̓͗͢͝ʎ̢̙͙̟̹̳͖̦̔͒̂̉̅̽͘͜͡ɐ̸̨̨̛͈͈͇̼̪̘͈̄̍̊̅̏̃͡͝W̢̯̳̭̻̟̙̯͚͛̌̈͆͗̚͜  
̶̡̧͔͇͎̻̜̂̔͑̎̈́͘̚͘̕ǝ̵̨͔̳͓̣̺̭̆̀̃̎̃́͛̈̑̕͢ɯ̮̺͈͉̭͊͌͑̊͡ u̴̹͖̩̹̫̱̥̞̞͗̉͒̀͋̊̕͘̚ͅo̧̱̯̭̻̬͋͒̓̌̍̕͢͢͞͝ p̶̨̝̟̖͉̩̯̓̒̏͑̃͜͝l̳̰͙̰̱͍̙̪͑̾̒͋͑̕͟͠ȯ̸̼͇̞̮̦̻̝̮̦̅̽̈́̓̇̈͢͠ɥ̨̛̯͇͔̫͓̪͗̄͒̉͑͑̃͜͞ ɐ̧̮̜͔̣͍͙̽̍̌̋̎ ʇ̵̧̡̖͚̼̗̦̜̱̉̆͆̆͗́̏͌̕̚ͅŏ̷̧̰̜̦̖͎̠͈̗͋͛̊̋̾͑͜ƃ̵̨͕̙̜̗̮̣̒̔̚͞͝͞ s̸̡͕̤̦͕̦͐͌̏̇̓͐͝,͇̬̬̩̼͓̝͛̆̄̆̕ǝ̶̨̖̠̝̯̗͕̜͒̌̽̓̐͋͌͑ɥ̠̪̟͕́̇̓̐͋̕͢ͅS̡͖̳̰͍͇̜̹̞̅̔̈̎̾̒͟͝  
.

 

The bones crack, breaking open as looks like liquid chrome starts to spill outwards from inside of Eddie, dribbling down and over the hands. The hands all fly away in a panic. The roadie collapses only loosely contained in what remains of his skin, muscles and fat. All which soon start to melt away as chrome pours over it. His eye sockets focus intently on Sasha until they’re nothing but chrome as well. 

Sasha sinks into himself, dragging his hands over his face with a strangled sound in the back of his throat. He can’t look up from the grass he’s staring at half afraid the chrome has swallowed up the landscape. 

The German man hasn’t realized he’s shivering until Milla’s hand presses against his shoulder. 

“Sasha-?” He jerks back, eyes wild as he realizes she’s standing behind him. 

“I-“ He swallows thickly, teeth chattering uncontrollably. “Vision-?” 

Milla’s expression goes grim, “I suppose its a good thing I can check your memory vault after this.”

###

“Finally.” Succoria scuffed her boots against the concrete underfoot as she started to circle the fleshy pods. The soft wet swish and slight twisting inside was a good enough sign to make the demon excited. 

She extended out a hand poking the red fleshy pod with the annoying rounded off human digit she was borrowing. _She missed her claws damn it._ “Titans be willing this works.” She drew her hand back flexing her fingers experimentally. Surely, there had to be claws somewhere in this flesh bag? There was enough demon blood she could inhabit this body. 

“I’m certain it will, my emperor.” She cut her gaze back to the man in Warfather’s robes, he held a tome of magic against his chest. “With your might, brilliance and cunning-“ 

“Blah blah blah, sucking me off so I don’t eat you.” She mimed talking back at him with her hand in annoyance. “I love a good mouth slapped on my genitals, but you’re wasting my time fucko.” 

The human man opened and closed his mouth awkwardly. “I merely….” 

“Am wasting my time.” Succoria finished firmly, “Either gimme a status report or drop it, peon.” The wannabe war father for his part doesn’t protest simply going silent. At least she was breaking these idiots in properly. 

She taps her fingers against her chin, wrinkling her nose at the feeling of facial hair. “What could this man not commit to a beard?” She grumbled unhappily to herself, before flicking her gaze back to the human man. Speaking of growth, they needed to have the pods grow faster and sooner. Her wannabe human troops couldn’t exactly do shit the way she wanted. Succoria turns back to the human man, snapping her fingers impatiently at him. “Oy, flesh bag, find me a spell for amplifying growth. I need more demons. I can only use your makeshift fodder for so damn long.” She was trying not to think about the abominations her idiots had sewn together. These humans had no idea what Tainted Coil beauty truly was. 

The human man swallowed awkwardly, nodding now. “O-Of course my merciful emperor.” He flips open the tome in his grasp, fumbling through the pages. 

She strokes her chin again, maybe she’d grow this out? Riggnarok made beards look nice. She could do a better beard than whats his nuts. Maybe she’d figure out what this guy’s name was. 

Now wasn’t time for that though. She had important things to think about. 

###

Ophelia gives a low tired snort as she scrubs at her face. “Report.” She snaps her fingers after a moment at Crowley who just laughs. 

“Pushy, pushy.” He comments lowly as he twirls his axe casually as he grins back at Ophelia. “So far, after stringing a few of those kinky bastards up, I got a vague idea of where their base is.” 

He sets his axe side to pick through his jacket’s pockets producing a journal. Even with a dunk in the sea the paper hadn’t been completely ruined. He flips through the pages, showing Ophelia the rough map he had drawn. The drowned woman leans into her boyfriend to look over the page. 

“The main base has gotta be here.” He jabs at the paper casually. 

“We’ve only been running into clusters-?” She questions, “Patrols?” 

“I think its been patrols.” He states, “They’ve always been pretty small, maybe trying to find any refugees? They haven’t left a specific area either. So we must be kinda close.” 

Ophelia wrinkles her nose, “I can believe that.” She stomach twists at the memory of the people they had to kill. Those who’ve been merged together by bondage, needle & thread, and some kind of magic. There was nothing left to save, no one left to save in those creatures the cultists had taken. “They need more refugees for… whatever they’re doing.” She shakes her head at the memory trying to not sicken herself. Crowley settles a hand against the small of her back wordlessly. 

“They must be trying to build up something. They’ve been getting more frantic all week.” 

“So, we need to find the base and level it.” Ophelia muses, coaxing a hand through her hair tiredly. “Things won’t- go back to what they were, but these things are the source of all of this.” 

“Cults, more likely than you think.” Crowley jokes lowly back as he snaps his journal shut, shoving it back into an inner pocket of his coat. “First, we’re gonna rest for a bit. Gather up supplies and then decide how we’re gonna torch everything.” 

Ophelia gives a low fond laugh, moving to kiss Crowley’s cheek. “I like your idea of burning more, I must admit.” 

“I’m a man full of ideas.” He waggled his brows playfully back, dragged in for another kiss. He doesn’t bother to break the kiss as he grabs at his axe, swinging it outwards into a cultist that had been trying to sneak up on them. 

“Don’t cock block us.” Ophelia states dryly to the thrashing man on the ground. Crowley just cracks up into laughter at that before taking another downward swing.


End file.
